


Father’s Day is coming early this year

by LesleyJean97



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, April Fools' Day, Erik's really into Pink Floyd right now, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Post-X-Men: Apocalypse (2016), Some Humor, and most of which ended up really embarrassing, big sister raven, fingers crossed for Fietro being Peter, just peter being peter, who has a bundle of stupid ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:40:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28833558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LesleyJean97/pseuds/LesleyJean97
Summary: Post X-men: ApocalypseAfter Apocalypse Erik stayed in the mansion, living with the X-men and one day he woke up to find a card on his nightstand, with 'Happy Father's Day' written on it, which would be pretty nice in any case. But the problem was, today was April Fool's Day...
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr & Pietro Maximoff, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Peter Maximoff&Erik Lehnsherr, Peter Maximoff&Scott Summers&Kurt Wagner&Jean Grey&Ororo Munroe, Pietro Maximoff & Scott Summers
Comments: 30
Kudos: 194





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm super late, but still better than nothing I hope :D
> 
> WandaVision was recently aired on Disney+ and the rumors were that we might see Peter in it!! I hope that was true cause I really missed my boy... But before that here is the appetizer :)) Hope you enjoy it!

It was just another usual day at Xavier’s Institute. The class was on as usual; the special training in the danger room went smoothly and Jean’s telekinetic power went out of control as was expected. In a nutshell, everything went on as it should be. So the word ‘usual’ seemed to be a perfect choice to summarize how things were moving by far.

But Erik didn’t hold with this choice, and that was not because he was a mess, who had problematic characters and a tragic past, and happened to be a supervillain who was last seen wreaking havoc alongside some bald lunatic called Apocalypse, which might partly explained why he preferred to go against everyone. No, it had nothing to do with all those facts. He simply felt it –the chaotic undercurrents swooshing in the bowels of the seemingly tranquil lake.

For starters, the weather was unusual. The sun was radiantly bright. Its blazing heat had rendered the snake plant which he kept on the windowsill withered. The leaves slouched and bowed their heads down like a troop of defeated soldiers, which was simply very peculiar. Even though he was careless enough to forget to check the weather report last night and leave it on the ledge, merely three hours of being toyed with at the hand of sunlight shouldn’t scorch it to such depth, cause he tended it well in most cases, doing some digging in the soil when needed and watering it at intervals since it wasn’t so thirsty for water as other plants.

But even without all the fuss concerning weather, the word ‘unusual’ and this very day seemed to make a perfect match for each other. And the reason was quite simple. For some reasons, whether spiritual or memorial, humans made some of dates stand out by circling them in red ink on the calendar. And today was a day like this, and this led to the other peculiarity – the boy living upstairs was eccentrically quiet, which was so unlike him. And to top it all off, the kids all behaved themselves, which was nothing less than a miracle. Erik was sure that something must have gone amiss.

Perplexed, Erik rolled out of bed to move the plant. His brows furrowed the moment his fingertips touched the soil. It was moist. But he didn’t water the plant last night. And actually this was not the first time he woke up to find out the soil was mystically moistened. Strange, not inexplicable though. Erik had suspected all along that it was the boy living upstairs who did this. Royally drunk after a drinking spree last night and accidently splashing the remnant in his glass on the plant when he tottered to the window, probably.

He glanced around the room for a nice spot to temporarily stow his plant, at last decided on the nightstand. And that was when he saw it – lying peacefully on the nightstand was a folded card, dull white and plain-looking. Outwardly void of any ornamental patterns. Gently placing down the plant, Erik picked up the card. Unfolding before his eyes was a line of atrociously-scrawled words, which read:

_Happy Father’s Day!_

Erik took in a deep breath, reread it, and frozen to the spot. He was quiet and motionless like the stone statue guarding the entrance of the Xavier’s School, and as rigid and slow as the grandfather clock falling into disrepair. For a heck of a long time he just stood staring, the ghastly scribble reflecting in his bloodshot eyes, not making any move until a rush of rage, carried by boiling blood and accompanied by a symphony of violent metallic clinks, soared up into his head.

Nostrils flaring dangerously, he crumpled the card up into a ball and thrust it into the pocket before he hurried out of the room. Downstairs in the study he found Charles, who was chatting with a kid in his usual, soothing voice.

Erik barged in without excusing himself, which earned himself an inquisitive but mostly, deprecating look from the professor. He dismissed the kid, who was eyeing Erik fearfully all the time and fleeing the room once he got the permission without a second of delay, before he turned to Erik, taking on a serious fashion, which Erik took as an indication of leaving out all the chit-chat. So he directly cut to the chase, yanking the folded card from the deep of the pocket and flinging it on the desk with an almighty sweep of his arm.

‘Charles, one of your students left this on my nightstand.’ said Erik flatly, his voice cold as ice, which Charles never took as a good omen.

Curious inflamed, the professor leaned forward for a better look of the card. After giving it a thorough scrutiny, he tore his eyes away and allowed it to lie serenely on his desk, amidst a stack of students’ works. Looking up, he saw Erik staring eagerly at him for an answer.

‘Well, seems that Father’s Day is coming early this year.’ returned Charles, his lips curved into a faint smile.

‘It’s April Fool’s Day, Charles. I’m not too old and helpless a square to not keep up with this child’s thing.’ Erik hissed, glaring at him, whose face registered a hint of understanding but was still reigned by smile. ‘Someone’s taunting me.’ Irritated, he plowed on, ‘And I need you to help me find this guy so that I could give him a good spank to let him learn his lesson.’

The smile on Charles’ face receded. He reclined on the seat, while his fingers traced up to his chin, tapping his cheek rhythmically as he peered at him in a thoughtful manner. His shrewd, clear-blue eyes studied him with that look. Erik hated that look. The look of knowing everything.

‘Don’t try to read my mind.’ He enunciated through gritted teeth.

‘I didn’t.’ said Charles briskly, the smile finding its way back on his lips as he cast a meaningful glance at the man standing opposite him, ‘You are wearing your heart on your sleeve.’

‘Glad to know that. And thanks for nothing.’ snorted Erik. On sweeping the card up, he swiveled around and made for the doorway. He was about to stride over the threshold when Charles suddenly began,

‘I take it you already have a suspect?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? There aren’t many people living here who are stupid enough to challenge me.’

Charles didn’t respond immediately. In his silence his face took an air of somber contemplation and Erik, not sure if it was a mere illusion, believed he had read brooding sympathy in those clear blue eyes. They were so used to communicate through eye contact, past and present, however this time Erik failed to understand what he was trying to say. It was an enigma he could in no way get it cracked.

‘What are you hinting at?’

Giving vent to a resigned laugh, Charles lowered his head to plunge back into assessing the students’ works laid in piles. Attentive as he was, he allowed himself a brief pause when something crossed his mind and looked up from the papers, breathing a soft whisper at Erik’s gaunt back, ‘You know… I personally believe the reason you came here first is because you are worried that you might get things wrong. You want me to assure you that you’ve got the right person.’

Erik shrugged, ‘There’s enough trouble here and randomly blaming another brainless deed on the innocent surely is not helping. We don’t need to invite any more misery.’ He paused, looking over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the professor as he thought he might catch a glimpse of a vague significant smile flickering across his face, ‘Is that a smile I’m looking at? What is that for?’ he persisted.

‘Nothing, just glad that at least you bust a gut to truly care about the feelings of others.’

‘Like I ever did.’ grumbled Erik darkly, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Knowing that he wouldn’t get any more answers from Charles, he strode out of the room.

Down at the end of the passageway lurked a knot of kids, whispering as they stood almost nose against nose. _Probably plotting a mischief on someone,_ thought Erik, a ghost of a smile creeping up his lips. He couldn’t refrain from thinking how strikingly they resembled his Nina. Same age, same childishly silvery voice and beaming smile. But the difference was, they avoided him. They dispersed spontaneously once they realized he was around. The relationship between him and those kids were the same as that of between the like poles, perpetually repelling each other.

The kids hated him. Erik knew it, but he didn’t actually mind. Being someone who had been through a lot, he learned not to take it to heart.

Ascending a flight of stairs, and after another one, he traipsed his way to the entrance of a long corridor on the third floor, with the crumpled card in his balled fist, bearing it in mind that if Charles wouldn’t help him get this straight, he would do it himself anyway.

He trod on the carpeted floor in steadfast paces. His bloodshot eyes, like grisly muzzles, aimed at none but one, the one hidden deep at the depth of the passageway. After half a minute or so there it was – on the lintel of the door was a brass plate which read ‘Peter’.

Peter was the name. But in the normal course Erik called him ‘that Maximoff boy’, mostly when he was present at their training in the Danger room. Even though he had already had a taste of the boy’s supersonic speed, he would still watch it in awe when that boy showed his powers to do something seemingly impossible during the training. To put it plainly, he admired this boy as a mutant soldier, namely the X-men, the name given by good ole Raven.

But apart from that, he was truly a pain in the neck. The boy was a wily prankster, always high on adrenaline and whenever he was hyped up he would run out even at the dead of the night to a town some hundreds of miles away and cause bedlam there just to tickle his fancy. And just like Erik, this boy clearly had problematic characters, which mostly manifested themselves when he inclined to the impulse of shoplifting or playing tricks on others.

Altogether, that partially explained why people simply came to knock on his door whenever there was an accident going on in the mansion. Cause in most cases it was his fault. And this belief led Erik here.

Standing right in front of the room, Erik was unexpected to find that the door was left ajar. Peering through the crack, he saw Peter bend over, bustling around at the far corner of the room, with his back at him. He could have just burst in, listening to his instincts. But this time reason prevailed and as he stood continuously adjusting his footing, he inhaled several deep breath to quell his rage, before he held out his hand to give the door a firm but nonetheless gentle knock and walked straight in.

The sudden intrusion clearly gave the boy quite a start. Appalled, he jerked bolt upright and when he swiveled around, so abrupt was him that he lost his footing and tumbled, falling heavily to the ground. And so did a cluster of old junk, clunking down one after another like heavy rain splashing in torrents.

For a moment they just stared at each other in still silence, Erik wearing a puzzled look whereas that boy, after the first flush of horror subsided, averted his gaze elsewhere. _Guilty conscience. Screamingly obvious._ Nonetheless Erik managed to hold his poise, telling himself that twice this boy had risked his life to save his butt and to this date he still owed him a thanks on top of everything. 

‘Um, bumping into the wrong room, Erik?’ Faking light-hearted, the boy began once his breathing righted itself, ‘I know this can cause some confusion cause this one is straight above yours and things like this could happen, for instance you might get the wrong floor which probably render you end up here but I’m not saying–’

Erik stopped his relentless blabbering, ‘I didn’t get the wrong floor.’

Still sitting clustered around scattered junk, Peter allowed himself a plastic smile, swallowing hard before he stammered, ‘That’s… er, great. Have a look here yourself huh? It’s very nice… um, you are more than welcomed, really…’ he tried to force some more words out, but on seeing that grimly solemn face bearing down on him, his tongue started twitching uncontrollably and a scattered array of thoughts, which had almost arrived the tip of his tongue, all died in his throats. Resigning himself to his fate, he just sat motionlessly, flicking a discreet glance up at the man who was still kept in the dark, waiting for his impending doom.

With the balled card clenched in his fist, tentatively and weighing his words, Erik slowly began, ‘Before we get down to the real business, just to tell you there’s no need to panic so long as you are straight with me. That means, no lies, and… wait a sec–’ Erik came to an abrupt halt as he approached nearer, a trace of bewilderment crossing his face when several stacks of neatly-arranged old junk, laid in order and all carefully stowed on the bed, caught his eyes. His eyes then fell on Peter, who recoiled a little bit and looked more than horrified. Erik looked directly at him, as though trying to read the answer to a question which he was yet to ask, and when he finally uttered that question, it hit him as downright surprise that he uttered in such an unnatural, funny voice, like he was indeed shocked at what he saw.

Correction: he was indeed shocked at what he saw.

‘Are you packing?’ asked Erik, bewildered, pointing at the junk.

‘I’m, um, allocating my belongings.’ returned Peter hesitantly, and when he saw Erik’s forehead lined with suspicion at his reply, he realized he had no option but to pour it all out.

‘Alright, I admit it.’ He threw both of his arms up as a sign of surrender, and struggled to rise to his feet before he trotted to the other end of the room to keep a discreet distance away from Erik, ‘I left that stupid card on your nightstand. I guess that’s why you came here for me.’ He paused, darting a cautious glance at Erik but before Erik could make a respond his eyes quickly roved elsewhere, ‘Anyway that’s a harmless mischief. At least I supposed so. But then it just came to me that you were a supervillain and the likelihood was that you would kill me here and now and might even kick me to the outer space once you found out I was behind this and the truth is I don’t wanna die at least not for now so I thought I gotta go. Fleeing faraway and hiding in some cavern and concealing myself inside for good, but not before I came up with a plan of how to deal with this stuff cause they are my precious and now look where we’ve got, I was caught red-handed!’

Peter ended his unrelenting narration with a flourish. In the end he talked so fast and in such a hysterically high-pitched voice that Erik could barely follow him. Nonetheless he managed to catch the drift and truthfully speaking, he found nothing amusing in this.

‘A harmless mischief, you say?’

‘That’s what I thought probably ten hours ago, but not anymore. It’s stupid I get it. Now bring your rage down on me, as much as you can. Fire your broadside. However harsh or violent. I’m ready to take it.’ said Peter swiftly, his lanky arms outstretched in anticipation of a harsh rebuke.

But what he had expected didn’t come. For a long time Erik just stood staring, his mouth a horrendous thin line, as though his lips had been zipped, thus all the words had been sealed up inside.

‘Furious, are you?’ said Peter timidly after another minute elapsed, when he couldn’t take the agonizing silence anymore.

‘More like disappointed.’ said Erik in a steely cold voice, walking towards him, glaring at the boy at close quarters and flinging the crumpled card at his feet. It rolled around and at last scuffled back, lying still beneath the toe of his show like a writhing fish die a slow death in a dried puddle. ‘Blessed with such mighty powers–’ Erik continued, ‘–all you have in mind is playing pranks on other people.’

‘That’s what I am.’ Peter breathed. He then squatted down to pick up the ball of crumpled paper before dumping it in a trash bin, and plunged himself back into his unfinished work, plowing on sorting out that precariously balanced pile of old junk with his lean back to him.

Shaking his head, Erik crossed to the doorway, but eased off the pace when he was only one step before he strode over it. The words were exhaled out of the blue with a deep sigh,

‘I have expected more of you.’

And then off he went, banging the door shut before one last fleeting glimpse at the disheveled silhouette sitting crouched in the corner but too immersed in his own thoughts to see those eyes, which were always lit with bright sparkles, descend into somber darkness at his words. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beans had been spilt and obviously everyone living in the mansion at least knew a thing or two about Peter's parentage, except for Erik, who would argue for himself that that was because he's not telepathic.

It was not until late at night that Erik, completely worn-out and fed up with all those so-called April Fool’s tricks, finally had a chance to chill out, sprawling in an old armchair. It turned out that the kids decided to season this very day with some festive air which it ought to manifest and for the whole afternoon they roamed around the mansion, tickled pink and shouting in exhilaration, chasing each other and pulling pranks on the jinx once they got their paws on him. They wreaked havoc in this place and then all hell broke loose, wherever they set foot on, it was one helluva disaster.

Patience driven to the limit, after the third time she had been hit by a water balloon Raven had had enough and determined that she would crucify whoever dared to make any trouble. Storming out of the room, she trod on the carpeted floor in the direction where the racket came from with a face like thunder, and dragged Erik along while she was on her way there as a second, who chanced to pass by at that very moment.

Before they could even blink their eyes the kids all fled in a rush of panic at the sight of them, or more specifically, him. The mansion reverted to tranquility, but still a huge mess. So for the rest of the day Erik did nothing but helped clean and tidy up this place along with Raven.

‘It’s a strange thing that Peter’s not into any of this. Don’t you think?’ murmured Raven thoughtfully out of suddenness, her eyes alighting on a streak of blots on the carpet she was about to tackle.

Erik’s head shot up at the mention of the boy’s name and the moment that name was brought into topic, the fragments of what had happened earlier this day all deluged in his head. Honestly speaking, he hadn’t thought about this for a while, cause giving a reprimand to some troubled kid literally was not something worth remembering or fussing about. He swept it out of his mind the second he strode over the threshold, but it was only when Raven brought it up that he realized maybe he shouldn’t dismiss the episode that soon cause obviously something odd was brewing up.

‘Maybe that’s because he found something way more intriguing than this child’s play, like piecing together a jigsaw puzzle, that he’d rather spend a whole afternoon stay in his own room.’ said Erik. _Stay in his own room._ It sounded nice, but that was exactly where all the peculiarities lay.

The boy locked himself up in his own room ever since that conversation and as far as Erik could see this simply meant something had gone haywire. It was like this boy was beside himself, cause normally he liked messing around. He loved being under the spotlight and having everyone’s attention. But now he tucked himself away from everyone, to sit alongside the gloomy shadow of his own, wallow in self-pity and… seriously ponder on Erik’s words? It just didn’t make sense. In the normal course of things he didn’t give a fig what others said to him, good or bad, right or wrong, he just deemed it some old wives’ tale and mostly snorted it off.

 _But not this time._ It was like he was indeed downhearted by what he said. Like he truly cared.

Altogether it was preposterously peculiar. And clearly Raven shared the same thought, judging from the deep frown on her face. She dropped the work which was only halfway through on the spur of the moment and rushed upstairs. She stayed there for about half an hour doing god knew what and when she came back, she looked like she could kill. When their eyes accidentally met, for a split second Erik labored under the illusion that she was shooting bullets at him from those two amber muzzles. 

_Huh, so she knows,_ muttered Erik inwardly _._ Nonetheless he feigned indifference and continued his work at hand undisturbed. Neither he nor Raven mentioned it again after that and they finished the clean-up in silence. A silence pregnant with tension though.

Now seated cozily in the armchair, while gazing absentmindedly at the ceiling, once again his mind uncontrollably wandered back to what had happened this morning, reflecting on all the eccentricities, and those menacing looks from Raven.

The funny thing was, just like Peter, normally he wouldn’t care about what other people did or said but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t go back to think it through. And this time, when he sat there mulling it over, the more he contemplated, the more inadvisable his earlier behaviors seemed to be.

He knew Peter had been raised by a single mother and needless to say, the absence of a father in the course of upbringing could affect a child profoundly. He was fully aware that this kid had been longing for a father figure. Bothering Charles every now and then and eyeing those who had received a gift from their fathers jealously had made it crystal clear. So this whole thing, in all likelihood, might be as he claimed, a harmless deed. Nothing wrong, save his bad timing –arranging it on April Fools’. On no account would anybody in his right mind do such things.

Anyway, Erik figured he better find a chance to sort this out, to sit down and converse reasonably with the boy, apologize if he needed to. Not today though. The boy had to learn his lesson and learned to have a think before he acted, regardless of whether the act was on reasonable grounds or not.

Inclining to drowsiness, Erik dismissed all those thoughts and rose to his feet, flexing his aching limbs a bit before he slowly walked to the nightstand to pick up his snake plant and repositioned it on the ledge. Through the wide-open windows, a cool breeze blew in, breaking on Erik’s face. He stood inhaling a few intakes of fresh air as his glanced around the lawn lying beneath – this often promised a pleasantly cool day. Looking down, he was pleased to see that the leaves of the snake plant restored to their former vitality, to a certain extent. _Except the soil…_ Erik’s fingers brushed past it and a shaft of chill flowed in on contract. _Still wet,_ a whisper of incredulity sounded in Erik’s head. 

Weary enough, he had no intention to figure out what that meant. He was ready to make for the bed, when a cascade of water suddenly splashed from above. For an instant Erik was wide awake, and so was an onrush of indignation, called up from deep inside him.

‘For fuck’s sake!’ cursed Erik under his breath, rushing back to the window and poking his head out to see what was going on there. One second later came Scott’s impatient voice.

‘…man, this reminds me of some self-made, shoddy beer that was left in the cellar for years reeking of stale sweat.’ grumbled Scott, forcing the words out amidst a fit of coughs.

‘It’s called soda, thank you very much.’ retorted Peter with heavy sarcasm, clearly pissed off, ‘And the taste which you described as stale sweat is in fact acidity.’

‘Not much difference here.’

‘That’s not the reason for splashing it all. You are wasting my hard-earned treasure and that’s a life sentence according to my law!’

‘Alright gangs, calm down, please–’ Erik heard another voice joined in the conversation. It was Jean Grey’s. _Lots of people up there,_ _it seems._ It looked like the youngsters were throwing a party, had it not been for the boiling tension. There was a moment when Erik was certain that Peter had lost it for a fraction of a second, when he jumped down Scott’s throat. It was a rare thing to see the boy actually blow a fuse. In short, there was something about the way he behaved that didn’t fit. The boy was acting weird. He was not himself ever since that conversation.

Erik flicked a quick glance up, but nothing came into view except for a huge, far-stretching canvas of sky. Out there was pitch-black. Today would soon be history. He could wait it till this day worn out, and later tackle him about what caused all this peculiarities but on second thought, maybe the better choice was to get this done as soon as possible, considering the urgency.

He ascended to the third floor, strode across the corridor while he mused on what he ought to say exactly after they met, but ended up with the idea that he might as well winged it. Once again the brass plate, etched with the name ‘Peter’, bumped into his sight as abruptly and curtly as it had been earlier this day. But instead of directly barging in, he stationed himself a mere step away from the door. Inside there the young X-men were still hot on bicker.

‘Folks, trill out, would you?’ He heard Jean mutter in a begging voice.

‘You heard him–’

‘Scott, we are not here for this, remember?’ said Jean sternly.

Scott sighed, ‘Fine.’

‘Good to see we are on the same page now.’ said Ororo briskly, ‘Now let’s move to the real business. Peter, have you confessed everything to him?’ She paused, during which time Peter must have given her a brief negative response, Erik assumed. Cause she almost broke into a yell of disappointment at once, ‘I can’t believe you are still keeping him in the dark! You should tell him. The sooner the better.’

‘Well, it’s not like stopping someone on the street and telling him he had a note written with ‘I’m an idiot’ stuck on his back. You can’t deal with this the same way as you do with that.’ mumbled Peter.

‘But he deserves to know–’ Jean exclaimed, echoed by Kurt, who kept repeating ‘she’s right’ all the time. ‘And seriously Peter, you are getting things too complicated. Just go find Erik and tell him, and– oh no,’ she gasped, ‘he’s right outside now.’

Deathlike silence domed over them. For an instant Erik felt they were all cocooned in a thick bubble which no sound could penetrate through. Although divided by the door, Erik was sure that at the moment they were sharing the same blank expression.

He didn’t know if he should show himself or not. Perplexity had reigned his mind since the moment he heard his own name brought into the conversation and he wondered what it was that was so important that they summoned a meeting here in the dead of the night.

Well, whatever it was, it involved him and Peter. That was the only thing Erik can be sure of.

Time ticked by. But the kids hadn’t made any move yet, hence Erik chose to be the one to strike first. He pushed the door open and walked in. The youngsters were all in there, huddling together, faking indifference and evading his eyes.

‘Quite a party here, isn’t it?’ Erik croaked, glancing from one to the other, ‘I suppose you are all geared up for tomorrow’s training?’

‘We are right about to make preparations. Are we, gangs?’ Scott hastened to say, eyeing his friends meaningfully. Jean was quick on the uptake.

‘Yeah, yeah. We are about to do that… Well then, see you tomorrow guys.’ said she heartily, forcing a curt laugh. She trotted to the doorway and disappeared in a heartbeat, with Scott, Kurt and Ororo closely on her heels, all filing out of the room. Ororo, bringing up the rear, closed the door behind her. Deathly still ensued, which was, well, preposterous. Considering you had Peter alongside, who was well-known for his blabbermouth.

Clearly the boy was in no mood for blabbering. Turning his back at Erik, he busied himself smoothing his training suit, doing it slowly, which was so not Peter-ish. For a moment all Erik could hear was the rustle he made when he endeavored to smooth out the creases, and his own ragged breath, an internal shriek deep in his lung, craving for an answer.

‘Care to give me an explanation for all this?’ asked Erik. He had had enough. All these peculiarities had driven him up the wall and he really needed someone to unravel the mystery for him.

In response to his question Peter just murmured ‘Nothing’ as he bustled around, tucking a heap of crumpled clothes in the wardrobe and sweeping the garbage into the trash bin. Preoccupied with his own stuff while he wandered freely in the room, paying no heed to Erik, as though he had merely been a speck of dust on the carpet.

Or, what was simply more plausible was that the boy was holding grudge to him for what had happened in the morning that he’d rather take him as something invisible. Erik mentally told himself that he should see it coming.

‘Peter, I noticed that today you've let your temper slip out of gear for several times.’ Erik began a moment later, ‘Such fierce mood swing will surely affect your performance in the training and it's really no good thing. You gotta bring it under control.’ He regarded him with a look of concern, ‘Normally you are not this ill-tempered. I assume it had something to do with what happened this morning? I thought it through after I came back and maybe, yes, maybe–’ he emphasized, ‘I was a bit too harsh on you cause I’m sure you meant no harm. I will apologize if that is what you demand–’

‘Don’t fuss over it.’ Peter interjected in an air of nonchalance. Though he masked it well, Erik could feel his displeasure. He had it all written on his deeply-lined forehead.

‘Then so be it.’ Erik shrugged, ‘But we are not over yet.’ he stopped Peter just in time before he swiveled around, ‘Tell me what it is that you are holding back from me.’

‘Nothing.’

‘I’m not stupid, Peter.’ persisted Erik with resolute determination, staring fixedly at Peter, ‘And you know I have a thousand ways to extract whatever you are trying to hide from me so I suggest that you better save it and tell me directly.’

For the first time Peter flicked his eyes up to look straight at him. Their eyes met in a way the same as acquaintances, who had not seen for ages, bumping into each other on the street when they least expected it. Bemusement, hesitation and slight uncertainty all chased after one another across their faces for a second. And then dawning comprehension shot up their heads. They started sizing up the man standing in front of them, like what Peter was doing right now. He studied Erik in a serious manner, but his lips twitched into a touch of teasing smile. Heaving a sigh, he wavered between whether he should act his age or he should just instinctively act the fool and burst into a helpless guffaw like he always did in a situation like this. 

‘Don’t blame me for not warning you then.’ He said at last after a momentary consideration. Seeing that Erik showed no sign of letting it go, Peter continued, ‘Alright. Sit down, Erik.’

‘I’d rather stand.’

Peter shrugged, ‘Still, I highly recommend you do as I say. Anyway, let’s play two truths and a lie. Here we go, listen – I’m a mutant, I’m your son, and Apocalypse is my half brother. Pick your answer, dude.’

‘That’s not very challenging. Cause I know Apocalypse could in no way be your – wait, WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not the best moment to play two truths and a lie but that was Peter, who was good at timing. ;))
> 
> Certain Speedester is in no mood for blabbering but guess who is in the mood!! I decide to add another chapter (maybe there'll be more, who knows) and that's definitely not because of my blabbermouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically just some chit-chats between father and son. Domestic issues and bonding. Hope you enjoy this!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm calling on whoever coming across this fanfic to watch WandaVision ep5 (if you haven't done so) OMG I can't believe they actually did this they bring in our beloved Evan into this wearing Quicksilver costume (at least it appears to be right at the moment) OMG I'm so overwhelmed. Even after two days I'm still going crazy over this. Well I heard through the grapevine that Evan actually plays Mephisto and this Quicksilver is nothing but an illusion but who knows. I'm just glad that he could put on that costume again and be that loveable superhero everyone adores. But yeah there are also rumors saying that this is the real Peter from xmen universe. Wanda accidentally pulls him into the westview from his universe (and he's possessed by Mephisto in his travel, some says, and xmen's on their way to take him back) And according to Elizabeth Olsen there'll be a cameo role in the last episode and it'll give audience that same kind of shock they felt when they saw Luke Skywalker appear in the last episode of The Mandalorian so why can't it be anyone from xcu? James, Michael, Sir Patrick, Sir Ian, or even Hugh Jackman, just to name a few. Anyway it really drives me crazy to wait another five days for the next episode and another month for the finale... Man I really hope they could use this chance to bring in xmen I'll riot if they didn't

Standing rooted to the spot, Erik gaped at the boy, transfixed. For an instant his mind went completely blank. He remained motionless in deathly still, as though all his senses were shut down, as though they were all dead to the world. 

‘What did you just say?’ he forced the words out. His voice was nothing but a hushed whisper, drifting, dreamlike, and so unreal, as if coming from afar. It was so hard a struggle even to breathe normally, let alone speak. It felt like trying to squeeze the last bit of toothpaste from the bottom of the tube. But he had to bring himself to do this.

‘Apocalypse is my half brother.’

Erik breathed a resigned sigh. ‘Peter.’ said him sternly, this time with more resolution.

‘Fine.’ Peter mumbled, rolling his eyes. ‘It turns out, well, Mags, you’ve got yourself a useless son, congratulations!’ he let out an almighty shout of insincere exhilaration, accompanied by a loud handclap. But neither seemed to be able to wake Erik up from this prolonged, rigid stillness as he stood stock-still against the wall, dumbfounded.

How could this be? How was that even possible? After he buried his wife and daughter in that secluded village, he knew that he was all alone once again and that a happy family life had long since forsaken him, but now, all of a sudden, he had an adult son, who appeared out of thin air, forcing his life to take a sharp swerve, right when he was about to let down the past and was ready to live all by himself ever since. It was like winning the lottery. A timely gift from heaven. However, having been tricked by fate for so many times, he didn’t know if it was indeed a gift bestowed by god or a curse.

_Gift or not, it was too much for me._

Preoccupied, Erik still remained silent. Not a sound could be heard. Not a move could be spotted. He stood frozen, as though petrified.

All this time Peter held himself perfectly aloof but as time dragged by, when Erik was still unresponsive, he started to get unnerved, slowly coming unglued as various of possibilities came and went through his flashing mind. Biting his lips, tentatively, he murmured, ‘Well, um, I know you might be disappointed. That’s quite relatable. Cause I’m only a sop and it surely is a hell of a disappointment if you are after the first prize from the outset–’

‘It’s ridiculous.’ retorted Erik immediately. ‘You are gifted with such stunning talents, anyone would be honored to call you their son.’

‘Right, gifted.’ Peter sniffed, plopping down on the bed. He cleared away the piles of old junk he had previously sorted to make room to recline comfortably. Peering unseeingly at a creased poster of Rush on the opposite wall, quite gloomily, he muttered, ‘sounds like the comments those good-natured teachers from my primary school would generously leave on the dismally-marked papers.’

‘You think that was only a perfunctory remark?’

Peter merely snorted by means of a response, but later he promptly added, ‘Or are you trying to recruit me to the Brotherhood? Raven told me a lot about… well, some of your magnificently glorious deeds in the past.’ He explained, not bothering to hide the heavy sarcasm in his voice.

 _Huh, so she knows._ That explained all those filthy looks.

‘Anyone else knows about this?’ Erik decided to change the subject. On hearing this Peter made a funny face, 

‘Anyone else? Pfff, that’s a long list. So… first we have Raven,’ he counted, ‘and then she told Ororo. Jean accidentally busted in my head once so she also knows, and later she confided it to Scott. And, oh, almost forgot – Hank and Moira also know about this. I breathed a word to Kurt some weeks ago cause I don’t want him to feel left out, you know. Being cast out of our secret ‘Peter’s Parentage’ club’, so not fair.’

‘Does Charles know about this?’

Peter gave it a quick thinking before he opened his mouth with a hint of uncertainty, ‘Dunno. But, well, he can read minds so my bet is that the answer is a big fat yes. I probably already projected it into his head at some point, when I’m dreaming, most likely.’

‘Yeah… probably.’ Erik agreed, thinking back on the smile spreading on Charles’ face earlier today. That was a knowing smile, a significant one, in full bloom. Yet he was blind to it. In fact, he had shut his eyes for so many times that he was oblivious to the facts plain as a pikestaff. What Raven said during their encounter back in Cairo… the boy’s hesitation… All those clues, leading to one, and only one simple conclusion, yet every time he chose to neglect it. The missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle was right under his nose all this time, however he just let it slip through his fingers, so rashly and so foolishly. Sheer folly, actually. Twice the boy saved his butt and how he got paid? He was left there to die, tortured, screaming in despair. And it all thanks to his old amiable father.

An onrush of poignancy, mixed with panic, welled up within him at the thought of this. Erik dreaded to think what might happen if the worst came to the worst. _It could have happened_ , and Erik knew full well how things like this might have ended. Based on the experiences in the past. His incompetence resulted in the demise of his mother. And then his past consumed his wife and daughter and now… the same fate might have befallen on his son. His blindness and arrogance could have rendered him killed. The only difference was that this time he had some luck. Nonetheless, he shivered at this possibility. It could have ended the other way, and the thought of this brought him up short and sent chills down to his spine.

‘Are you bewitched or… what? Too immersed in mentally communicating with professor that you lost track of time?’ Peter blurted, interrupting his relentless thinking. Dismissing those restless thoughts, looking over his shoulder, Erik found Peter staring intently at him, his face taking on a curious, thoughtful look. ‘You stood there for probably a hell of a century,’ he continued, ‘Exaggeration though. But for me it felt like a century–’

‘I know, I know.’ Erik hastened to say. He tried to force himself to stay calm and collected but, nerves on edge, all he could bring himself to do was ruffling his already disheveled hair to make it even more tousled and nest-like. And when his fingers combed through his hair, it was then that he realized he was sweating like mad. He didn’t notice his palm was soaked with sweat until he rubbed it all on his hair, and that his back was already dripping wet. And so was his face, coated with a film of sweat, as saturated as the misty window on a snowy winter night.

Jittery and legs shuddering under stress, Erik thumped down on the side of the bed. The mattress let out a heart-rending screech, as though echoing the relentless thoughts in his head. At that very moment he wished he had Charles’ powers. He could really use it. In this case the power of settling the nerves would come as exceedingly useful. And reading minds would make it a lot easier for them to communicate. If only God had granted him the power of telepathy! – But hell no, God made him manipulate metal. The power was hilarious in all fairness, but under certain circumstances the power of toying with nails and paper clips might be of no use at all. Twice he experienced this feeling of impotence. One was when he was held in captive a hundred floors beneath the Pentagon, where there was not a single shred of metal; and the second time? – This was the second time. He was going through it right now.

‘So… how come you… find out about this? I mean, us related?’ Erik sputtered. Even so, a fusillade of questions flowed out of his mouth quite naturally yet uncontrollably like a stream running on a slope. ‘When did you know about this? And who told you about this? Is it your mom? Who is your mom? How is she? And where have you lived before you moved here?’

‘That’s a hell lot of questions. Feels like you are interrogating me.’ Peter pursed his lips, ‘Yeah, definitely interrogation. You sound like those cops knocking on my door.’

Erik was suddenly alerted, ‘Why did those cops come to you?’

‘Well, it seems that we have some disagreement on the interpretation of ownership… They adhere to the traditions but I, unlike them, am open to the novel insights… Fine, I admit it,’ Peter caved in at last upon seeing that bemused but solemn expression stubbornly sticking on Erik’s face, ‘I lift things from the local shop. That’s why they come to my house every once in a week. Not some mutant-kidnapping-or-experimenting-whatever wicked plan on the sly. You got it?’

Erik allowed himself a second of pause to shoot a deprecating look at Peter, ‘You are not supposed to do that.’ said him in a reproachful voice. Nonetheless Peter just found it quite amusing.

‘Already acting as my old man?’

‘That’s not what I intended–’

‘Yeah, I guess so.’ Peter interrupted immediately before he could finish his words.

Though Erik was not telepathic, he knew perfectly well what Peter actually meant by saying that.

‘You think I’d be disappointed at this?’

‘Well, suddenly finding out you got a useless good-for-nothing adult son in your late 50s surely is not something very cheerful, isn’t it?’

‘Unexpected is what I’m gonna use here,’ Erik corrected him, ‘cause this doesn’t happen everyday… So yeah, unexpected. But that doesn’t mean I’d turn down a chance to reunite and maybe bond with my son, after twenty years of being absent from his life. I’d never say no to a family reunion.’

Peter didn’t respond. But from what Erik could see he did appear to be more relaxed. And unless his eyes were tricking him, Erik could well say that he seemed to catch a glimpse of a suspicion of a smile flickering across Peter’s face. Though only for a fleeting second. Flexing his limbs, with a neat sweep of arm Peter took out his Walkman. So quick was his move that in Erik’ eyes it looked as though it was magically produced out of nowhere. Next he started to decide on which song would be the good buddy of him for the next thirty minutes.

‘Whose music are you mostly into?’

Peter surveyed him quickly, ‘Ever heard of Pink Floyd and Rush?’

Erik shook his head, ‘Guess I’m too old for that.’

Peter cracked a lopsided grin on hearing this. The smile he usually saved for those hilarious jokes, though technically it was not even a joke, let alone being hilarious. But he couldn’t repress the urge to reciprocate it with a laugh. A laugh from the heart. A sincere one.

‘Welcome to the world of rock’n’roll.’ said Peter briskly, flicking the switch on the side off to shift it into the default mode before tossing his Walkman into Erik’s hands. Merely one fleeting glimpse at the screen, where was seethed with lines of words, was enough to tell Erik that none was to his liking. Even so, he clamped the headphones over his ears, randomly chose a song, and immediately turned down the volume when the first crash of roar bumping into his ear.

‘So, how come you find out about this?’ Erik began a moment later, with the throaty singing voice resembling the rumble of thunder continuously knocking the back of his head in the background.

‘Mom told me. Remember the day you wreaked havoc at the White House? And your live-broadcasting speech?’ A look of reminiscence spread over Peter’s face out of the blue, as he relived the shocking memories, when that steely-cold but familiar voice rang in the distance of his mind, ‘Well, mom acted weird ever since she saw you on the television. At first I thought she knew about the prison break and was wavering over whether to turn me in for helping a mutant terrorist escape. But hell no, it was way worse than that. So one day when I was in the middle of playing Pac-Man she busted in and told me everything, from the fact that the said mutant-terrorist whom I helped break out of the Pentagon was none but my own father to the story of how you met and,’ he shot a careful glance at Erik, ‘how you mysteriously disappeared one day without leaving one single message. All this time she believed you might be dead but then you appeared on the telly making that speech and it really gave her a shock…’

‘And your mom…’ murmured Erik, a vague idea already surfacing.

‘Her name is Magritte.’ answered Peter crisply, ‘You know, my stepdad used to call her Mags.’ he added when something crossed his mind, ‘Not for Magneto, obviously, just pure coincidence. Still funny though.’

A faint smile flickered across Erik’s wrinkled face. Though it soon gave way to somber contemplation, as he pondered on Peter’s words, searching the name ‘Magritte’ from the fragments of memories swept and dumped in the dusty corner of his mind. _Magritte._ _Magritte Maximoff._ The name did ring a bell. The image of a fair woman with dirty-blonde hair draping over her shoulders emerged to the surface. They lived together in an old apartment for about half a year, living a life of serenity like that of those ordinary people.

‘So why you left her at that time?’ A soft but tentative whisper penetrated into his head, interrupting his thoughts. Swiveling around, he expected to be met with questioning, reproachful eyes, but to his utter surprise, Peter was rather poised, fiddling with fingers and merely waiting. His quiet breathing and his making no attempt to push for an answer even after long time of waiting gave people an illusion that he had absolutely no interest in any of this but, an illusion was still an illusion.

Erik weighed his words but at last he decided to leave out all the deliberation and just be blunt and honest, even though the answer might not be a splendid one. ‘I was on a Nazi-hunting mission then. Though technically, mission is not the proper word for this. Actually it’s a–’ he paused to take in a long breath, to brace himself for what he was gonna say next, ‘it’s a revenge.’ said Erik in a whisper, ‘For my parents. At that time all I had in mind was things like this and there was no room for any other things–’

Erik tried to force more words out but he couldn’t come up with anything coherent save some faltering splutters of dry hums. He was never good at explaining. In the edgy silence, once again their eyes met and even if it was impossible for him to say it out loud, those words dying in his throat, as Erik hoped, could communicate themselves to Peter through eye contact at the very least. 

‘That’s very you.’ said Peter vaguely, ‘Woa woa, it’s not like I’m bitter about you leaving us.’ He amended almost in a panic instant when catching a glimpse of the guilty look on Erik’s wrinkled face. ‘I can totally relate to what you’ve done cause… revenge, er, revenge is important eh? I might be an even worse drama queen if I were in your shoes – imagine someone dare to hurt my mom. I’d leave a promising record-breaking-anticipating Pacman game behind to kick his ass.’

Smiling, Erik adjusted the headphones a trifle, through which furious drumming was now roaring in his ears. He had no idea what a record-breaking-anticipating Pacman game was. But he did smell a hint of bitter anticipation in Peter’s voice. The bitter anticipation of ‘What if…’

_Like ‘what if you’ve stayed.’_

The throaty drawling voice in the headphones was singing ‘how I wish you were here.’ An apt echo.

‘How’s your stepdad treating you?’ asked Erik moments later when the song was slowly brought to a memorable end. At this question Peter pursed his lips and shrugged, which Erik took as a negative reply.

‘He’s an alcoholic. Mom divorced him when I was 12.’ Peter snorted, ‘Anyway, not a good dad. And – oh, he’s shorter than you.’ He added, as though it was something of great importance.

‘I can’t say I’m an excellent example in this regard even compared to him, if that’s what you meant.’ Erik croaked gloomily, ‘I’m not a good dad either.’ said him frankly, a surge of guilt taking over his head, pricking his eyes and making him feel awful.

‘A cool dad though.’ Erik heard Peter saying, ‘I used to imagine my dad being someone dressed in leather jacket, tattooed with the face of Elvis Presley and having a punk hairdo. Well, you are way cooler than that. Not everyone’s dad is crazy enough to ally with a mutant demon first and then launch a mutiny against him. You deserve a trophy for this.’

Erik broke into a hearty laugh, ‘I’m well honored.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaand another chapter in progress. At first it's plotted as a one-shot but every time after I wrote another 20k or so words I thought 'nope let's add another chapter' and now I really can't guarantee you if the next is the last though it is according to my plan. But let's not be so sure until the next chapter comes out ;P


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter revolving around the father-son-bonding and domestic issues. Hope it's not one big yawn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got three deadlines last week so it took me longer to finish this chapter. After this I've got two more assignments this week so... a very tight deadline, really tires me out :// But I'll try to squeeze this in
> 
> So one more week to go and we'll finally get a comfirmation of whether this 'Fietro' is actually Peter from X-men universe. Personally I believe he is and this is backed up by some of the leaks going around on the reddit and twitter. Honestly, if 'Fietro' ends up being one of the supervillains or just some random guy I'd be super disappointed cause Fox has already done dirty to him in Dark Phoenix and you can imagine how frustrated I will be if they play the tricks again and that this whole casting Evan is nothing but a mere stunt cameo. Evan is an amazing actor, he deserves more opportunities and more screen time and so does Peter. His stunning powers and his cool personality are enough to make him stand out in this franchise. I truly hope Marvel didn't just bring him in to kick him out after one or two episodes and waste his talents. So... fingers crossed.

The passing of time was lost on Erik as he sat there in tranquil silence, listening to the music with a fast tempo coming from the headphones while silently counting the beats. It was surely deep in the night but he didn’t feel like leaving, not so soon. He mentally told himself that maybe Peter wished him to stay a bit longer, all for the sake of his company. Although in fact, quite the opposite, it was he, a broken man who just found his only family back a mere moments earlier, who was in the real need for the company.

He listened to the intense music without taking heed of what the singer was actually singing and only when the singer stopped to get the breath back after a drawn-out roar would Erik prick his ears. The song came to an end, and for him it only meant one thing – time to leave. For the past fifteen minutes or so he kept telling himself, for numerous times actually, that he couldn’t stay here the whole night, that Peter was not a five-year-old and hence there was no reason for him to stay here all night long to help him brave the darkness like he once did with Nina.

 _One more song. Just one more, and after that it’s time to say goodnight._ That was what he kept reminding himself. He repeated telling himself this for so many times that it almost sounded like the rules of the game that everybody ought to bear in mind. Only that he kept bending these rules. One more song, and then there was another one more, in endless sequence. Like a stretching road. You knew ultimately it would end somewhere but you had no idea when.

 _Somewhere._ But Erik refrained from thinking where it exactly was as he intently studied his son’s face. Half of Peter’s features were shadowed by the magazine he was currently holding above his face, yet Erik still managed to make out his prominent nose and thin lips. He wondered why he hadn’t ever noticed these before, considering how alarmingly they resembled his. Peering at his son, he felt like looking into his younger self. Both solitary and likewise defiant. Softer though, which you could tell from the way his lips curved and also, his bright eyes. Dark as charcoal but always wildly glinting, which looked nothing like Erik’s.

 _Inherited from his mother_ , thought Erik. And he was glad Peter had them.

The racket at the far end of the passageway interrupted Erik’s thoughts. He didn’t have to be telepathic to know where those excited muffled whispers came from. He was just a bit in awe that these kids had such overwhelming energy and patience to follow the episode even to the dead of the night. They had rarely manifested those when they were in combat training with him. The young X-men were pretty much a helluva chaotic mess behind those fancy doors to the Danger Room, whose name suited them well considering how dangerous they could become when their powers went out of control.

But that was never the case with Peter. If the everyday training in the Danger Room was a huge participatory exam, Erik would definitely give him top marks. Admittedly, it was not exactly fair since his previous experiences would surely work to his advantage and help him gain an upper hand among these teenagers who had just had a taste of their powers. But Erik was not that kind of lecturers from the Victorian age, who was picky and horrendously stingy with praise. He was unsure of how many times he paid the kid a compliment at the end of the training, though he was certain that it must be quite often, simply because he deserved those. In short, Peter was an amazing student by his standard. Quite unlike what he usually manifested, when in the training he was poised, confident and full of incentive to progress.

Now Erik knew where his incentive came from. He was relieved in the knowledge that Peter listed it high on the agenda but at the same time felt a twinge of bitterness at the realization that his son had gone to such great length to impress him. Things could have been a lot easier if he had paid a bit more attention to him.

‘Um, listen, about that card–’ Erik’s head jerked up in Peter’s direction as his voice brought his attention back, ‘Trust me I meant absolutely no harm. Not that I was trying to irritate you or something. I just thought it might be a genius idea. A good start to confess everything.’ Peter pouted, ‘If you took it well after hearing me out then it would be rad… and if things went the other way round I could simply laugh and say it was all for the spirit of the April Fool’s. Sounds great, huh? At least I thought so. But later Jean reminded me that neither would happen and it was most likely that you would throw me to the outer space before I had chance to explain myself so…’

The young man’s intense blabbering faded to a murmur on seeing the blank expression frozen on Erik’s face. Biting his lips with bated breath, Peter regarded his features discreetly for every subtle nuance and let out the breath he wasn’t even aware that he was holding when his father broke into a helpless chuckle.

‘Now you know I don’t have the brain for genius ideas.’ Peter added.

Erik shook his head, ‘Jean is right. You are getting things too complicated.’

‘Complicated?’ Peter repeated, a trace of childish defiance glinting in his dark eyes, ‘Maybe. But that also meant I did a lot of thinking. So, I’d rather take that as an acknowledgement for the hard thinking I invested in this.’ 

The resigned smile found its way back on Erik’s face. He had been reunited with his son for no more than two hours and the kid was already giving him headaches. Erik had a hunch that the same thing would reenact again and again in the years to come and perpetuate itself nonstop. Like the multiplication of cells, programmed to be in a constant movement without a break, at least not in the forseeable future.

 _Some price to pay,_ Erik said to himself. Even so, he was willing to give out everything he had, all for the company of a family. There were things you couldn’t put a value on. Something priceless. And that thing was right beside him. Together they were home.

‘And if I were with you, I'd be home and dry…’ Erik heard an echo flowing out from the headphones into his ears. He flicked a quick glance down at the screen to see two bold letters form the title – ‘If’.

‘It’s a beautiful song.’ Erik gave vent to a dreamy whisper, staring unseeing at the screen.

‘Well, since I was born with the great discernment in music I could well assure you that every single one in there is of good quality. They are all beautiful songs. Epic, actually.’ Peter boasted, cocking his eyebrows in a supercilious fashion, which reminded Erik of Nina. The child always acted haughty whenever she got the better of an argument. Erik thought maybe they were more alike than he had supposed.

‘That’s a sublime gift.’ said Erik genuinely, ‘Inherited from your mom, I guess? Because I definitely don’t have those.’

Peter was cracked up with a broad grin, ‘She does have a good taste in music.’ He agreed, ‘But she’s more or less into the classical genre so… nothing like me.’ said him briskly.

While whistling in tune with the song, Peter had a quick flip through the last several pages of magazine before chucking it aside and warily flicking his gaze back on the hunched man sitting next to him. He wondered how many of those melodies actually registered in his brain. If he was going to be honest, he’d point out that Erik was no different from that kind of dad portrayed in the 80s sitcoms – coming from the Stone Age but busting a gut to comprehend what was trending nowadays to get into the swing of things so that he could at least have something to say with his teenage children during the dinner talk.

 _This was purely insane_ , thought Peter. Erik, Magneto, the president killer, dad, whatever he was called, had many identities. For each identity there was a different image of him. Varying, though all fitting him well. But a classic comical daddy image from the 80s sitcoms? Definitely not fitting.

 _Like a note going off-key._ And Erik himself was the inharmonious high-pitch note in the full-on heavy metal music, the scratchy roar at the end of the song. Stand-out and funky, and mostly, chaotic. Erik was a man of chaos. But in Peter’s eyes that was just another word for ‘cool’. He had a cool dad. And his dad was right by his side, listening to the songs he had been listening for years and, making comments and cracking lame, corny jokes about his music taste. For a split second Peter felt as though Christmas was coming early this year, that Santa had been keeping his gifts for twenty consecutive years, all for this big surprise.

 _Still worth it, eh?_ Though he truly wished it could be delivered earlier. But better late than never, right?

Contemplating, Peter shot a fleeting glimpse out in the distance to see the ink-black heavens bearing down on them. It was a bit late, honestly. Though it didn’t affect Peter that much, cause unlike anyone else, he didn’t actually need to sleep eight hours to recharge. One hour and a half might do. But with Erik it was a different story. He was as predictable as every living guy in terms of the inevitable requirement for sleep. His dazed eyes and drooping eyelids had made it clear enough.

‘Haven’t done with all those beautiful songs?’ said Peter out of the blue, which gave Erik quite a start. He mechanically blinked back at Peter and literally remained in a state of blank amazement for a whole couple of seconds before that faraway look slowly wore off.

‘You want it back?’

‘Nah, just figured it might be a bit late now. I’ve really got to sleep.’ Peter faked a big yawn, ‘Considering we have training tomorrow…A good night’s sleep is a good start for that, right? And you could use some as well.’

‘Oh, right, the training. I almost forgot.’ Erik sighed, running his hand over his face, ‘Well then… I better just leave it here…’ he reluctantly put down the headphone and darted a sideways glance at his wrist watch, ‘you are right, it’s awfully late. Time to sleep, really…’

‘Yep.’ Peter agreed, ‘Either sleep here or in the Danger Room. But I’d choose the former. Better keep yourself awake when you are fighting those giant robots cause that surely is not the proper time to throw yourself into the sweet dreams.’

Erik nodded. He quickly wound the headphone cord into neat loops wrapping around the Walkman and handed it over to Peter. But the boy didn’t take it.

‘You can keep it for a while. Temporarily.’ He added, ‘And it’s rent free.’

Grinning from ear to ear, Erik accepted it and quite spontaneously, he held out his hand and gave the boy’s shoulder a tentative pat before rising to his feet. He slowly walked to the doorway and, when reaching for the doorknob, he came to a sudden halt with his hand frozen in mid-air, as something inexplicably bubbled to the surface. Swiveling around, he was met with a nerve-taut Peter, hot under the collar and quickly averting his eyes elsewhere as though he had been caught red-handed when shoplifting, which was to Erik’s much bewilderment.

‘Are you alright?’ he surveyed his son with deep concern. Peter grimaced.

‘Same question to you. Or you left anything here? Your cape? Helmet? Dress sense or–’

Erik heaved a sigh, and stopped Peter before he came up with anything that could possibly get him into trouble. He began as soon as Peter’s voice died down.

‘You watered it, didn’t you?’ he asked, yet Peter only reciprocated with a puzzled look. Ergo, he continued, ‘The plant I keep on the ledge. Every morning I wake up to find the soil completely saturated. At first I thought it was alcohol. You were drunk and accidentally spilt some drops, probably. But it just came to me that that’s beyond the bounds of possibility. Scott made me realize this.’

‘Well, I’ve got to keep your plant alive.’ said Peter matter-of-factly. ‘You never water it. And as far as I can remember, plant needs watering, right? I’ve learnt that in the biology class.’

Erik could only laugh in return. ‘Snake plant doesn’t need to be watered daily. Once every ten days might do. Overwatering will damage its roots.’

‘Oh, I have no idea about that.’ Peter admitted, his face going crimson with embarrassment. ‘I hope it hasn’t done too much damage though.’

‘Don’t worry. It’ll revive.’

‘Hope so. And one more thing–’ Peter paused to cast a look that was somewhere between amused and childishly haughty at Erik, ‘I don’t take alcohol. It never works on me so I don’t really get that kind of feelings you guys normally have when you drink. I guess that’s why I never take it. Not stimulating at all. Tastes like water.’

‘Side effects brought by your powers, I assume?’ Erik hazarded a guess, ‘But it’s not all negative…’ _Seriously, what was the good of it, the alcohol? To spice things up a little bit? Or more commonly perceived, to paralyze the feelings? Might do you the world of good when you downed the first cup but what was next? Just endless, persistent feelings of nothingness, and migraine, probably. After that everything remained the same; the lost remained lost and the deceased remained dead and gone and the void was still empty._

Erik took a big intake of breath to dismiss the thoughts. Head up, he was bemused to find that he was faced with an equally-nonplussed Peter and it was after a while that he realized he had voiced his thoughts out loud. They lapsed into brooding awkward silence again, until Erik stepped up first to shatter that silent bubble.

‘Just musing.’ He explained, a wry smile flickering across his wrinkled face, ‘Well then, I better leave. Goodnight, Peter. And don’t be late for the training.’

‘I’m never late for anything.’ Peter retorted, ‘I’m the most punctual.’

‘Good to know that.’ Erik grinned broadly. ‘Anything else?’ he persisted when, in the dim light, he saw Peter pursed his lips, seemingly in anticipation of expressing himself. But after a second of hesitation he merely shook his head and, swallowing, he went on, ‘nothing.’

Erik gave him a nod before he pulled the door open. Whilst he strode over the doorway, a whisper, timid yet clearly audible, reached him in time before he shut the door and closeted it away on the other side. It said ‘Goodnight.’

Smiling, Erik gingerly closed the door while wishing his son a night of sweet dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright one more chapter :P And there's a scene involving Erik and the eavesdropping X-kids(sorry for calling them that. It's actually Scott, Jean, Kurt and Ororo. In case you are confunsed) attached to the end of this chapter but I figure it might be better if it's used as the start of the next chapter so you've got to wait for a few days(or weeks? Dunno) to see what they were chatting about


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik's really into the Pink Floyd right now...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe they did this I just can't believe this. Bringing in Evan to hype up fans, making him wear full Quicksilver constume and teasing the audience' insterest and drawing out the reveal till the finale, all for a stupid dick joke? Seriously this is the best thing Marvel can come up with? Honestly, I wouldn't be THIS furious if they hadn't pulled that shitty dick joke but hell no, they made him a rando with a ridiculous surname, which was the worst combination my genius brain could think of. That's just... *speechless  
> For me it's like Dark Phoneix all over again. Casting Evan and making his character end up nowhere to waste his talents. But at least they could argue that that was partly due to the schedule collision so there were indeed some objective causes at play (still, that didn't justify the horrible storytelling it's just lazy writing really) but this, THIS, they did it on purpose. They teased the fans with elaborately-narrated set-up plot all along, about multiverse, about Peter. They knew what we would expect and more than once they gave nods to these theories in the interviews but no - just fake-out, the trick that they had already pulled before and now they used this again and purported it to be 'a brilliant plot twist’. Seriously, I believe it's just another word for I-mess-it-up.  
> Wandavision is now brought to a close but there are still so many unresolved questions. These days I've read some theories in regard to the finale and many people bring up a speculation that Peter (yes I'll still call him Peter I refuse to connect him with that ridiculous name) is the witness Woo mentioned somewhere in the previous episodes. This could explain that profile picture and the name (an alias). I can't say for sure if Peter is that guy under witness protection but I'm willing to buy it. At this point I'll clasp to every straw I could possibly get (I'm pathetic I know that) I hope they'll give us some answers in Multiverse of Madness (or at least try to fix this) and not just leave it there.  
> Sorry for the blabbering I'm just really furious

At this time, outwardly the mansion was in a deathly hush, but the muffled stirs in the broom closet didn’t escape Erik’s attention as he walked hurriedly down the passageway. Breathing a heavy sigh, Erik stopped at the broom closet and held out his hand to feel the metal vibrating under his power. In the wake of a loud clunk, the door was yanked open. One after another, out fell a knot of students, all disheveled and in a chaotic mess. The lanky boy on the top raised his head with a sheepish grin.

‘Hi, Mr. Lehnsherr.’ Kurt greeted him with a strong German lilt accent.

‘This is how you prepare for tomorrow’s training?’ said Erik crossly, ignoring his greeting. The kids exchanged glances and all descended into guilty silence. At last Scott braced himself and said,

‘We figure checking the mental state of the supervisor is also part of the preparation. And it’s an essential part.’

‘Alright then, tell me what you find.’

‘Um, nothing special, actually. Just some random thoughts.’ Jean carefully weighed her words, forcing a flicker of smile to mask her nervousness, ‘But you pass the test.’

‘Well, that’s quite unexpected.’ said Erik nonchalantly. ‘Now get yourself tidied up and go back to bed. Don’t you ever think about continuing doing what you are doing right now or I’ll tell Charles to forcibly put you all into a trance. And don’t go bother Peter–’ he added warningly, his intense glance resting on Kurt, who seemed to be really intrigued by the idea of bamfing into Peter’s room on the spur of the moment for all the intricate details they probably had missed. On seeing the boy retract his craning neck and now sit huddled alongside Ororo he continued, ‘He’s already asleep. If you have anything to gossip about, leave it till morning.’

Technically there was not a slightest shred of humor in that remark and therefore, Erik was utterly surprised, and annoyed also, when he saw Scott and Kurt burst into foolish giggles at what he was saying. He was baffled why it cracked them up.

‘That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.’ At Erik’s questioning frown Scott forced some incoherent mumbles in between hysterical giggles, ‘The dude never sleeps, like ever. He was always hyped up till four in the morning.’ 

‘A bit annoying, if I’m to be honest.’ Jean wrinkled her nose.

‘Though I gotta say it would come in handy sometimes.’ said Ororo with burning exhilaration, ‘Remember the last time we went to the bar?’

‘Oh, right. In the end everyone’s drowsy and wasted. You are the worst, Scott.’

‘Yeah, like, royally drunk and dopey.’ Scott grimaced. ‘I had least idea what happened the rest of the night–’

‘But Peter took care of us–’ Kurt chipped in with a look of reminiscence.

‘–The next day I woke up to find myself ended up on my bed.’ Scott continued, ‘Clearly Peter was the only one sober enough to get us back. It’s a strange thing though, when locked up with a bunch of paralytic and dead beat dumbheads he suddenly becomes the brightest and sanest one. Funny eh? Not that I’m holding your son up to ridicule, really…’ Scott added in a panic haste when it came back to him that Erik was still around. ‘I’m grateful for what he did–’

But the rest of the sentence failed to reach Erik as he was already off on the way back to his room, with the Walkman tightly clasped in his hand. He couldn’t tell but for some inexplicable reasons it was warm to touch.

A draught welcomed him when he entered the room and surprisingly, it was gentle, like the caring words of a mother. Standing by the window, he allowed it to caress his skin, savoring the feeling brought by its motherly touch while attempting to remember when was the last time he had been cared for. The answer came quickly – when he still had his family. The family took care of him.

Now, by sheer luck he found his only family back. Not just a biological son, but a family. Once he naively thought that family was all about genes and blood. However, after he started to build his own family he came to realize how dumb it was to simply condense it into hereditary. Family was more than genetic inheritance. It was about looking after each other. Blood and genes were what connected them, but it was love that made them a family.

Erik looked at the Walkman he was still holding, peering, while studying attentively. The yellow paint was more or less worn out but in the gleaming light, it still glistened brightly, which reminded him of the sunlight on a breezy summer morning. Warm and gentle, not blazing.

He inhaled a deep breath when the warm breeze broke on his face, tasting the smell of a humid night and listening to the hushed whispers between the wind and the snake plant. The leaves no longer slouched and in the wind they danced wildly and vigorously like a knot of noisy school kids, shouting out to him that they were full of beans after a nap.

‘You revive.’ said Erik under his breath, toying with the leaves, allowing them to caress the back of his hand. He was astounded at how it managed to revive in such a short space of time. Erik couldn’t get a handle on how the cells or chlorophyll worked since botany was not his strong suit. He could only boil it down to the miracle of life. Plus a tinge of magic of time, maybe.

 _Kinda resembled the upbringing of children._ It was a miracle that they were brought to the world, strong and healthy and grow to maturity as time weaved its magic on them. Nina was the descendants of these two elements combined, and so was Peter, only that the birth of his son was a pure accident.

Their reunion was also an accident of fate. Had it not been for the encounter ten years ago in the Pentagon, their lives would have continued like a pair of parallel lines, never converging. But fate brought them together into a pair of intertwined spirals.

 _Fate was truly a tricky bastard, eh?_ He had fought against it for most of his life, trying to break off some crumbs from the beguiling toast the Fate had displayed to him, to feed himself with the delights of a blissful life. He fought hard, yet it was to no avail. He had long given up the ridiculous thought of throwing himself on its mercy. But now, at this point, when he had grown old and weary, it suddenly and inexplicably decided to have mercy on him and the gift was given to him on a silver platter. _Rather peculiar, right?_ Erik didn’t know what that meant or what was in store for him. Fate was a cunning devil. He could never outthink it.

But Peter’s mind was easy to read. Erik knew too well why he lied to him back there. His intention was screamingly obvious. Erik’s lips curved into a faint smile as his coarse hand ran over the smooth skin of the leaves. The more he thought about it the harder he found to repress the impulse to laugh and at last he allowed it to be breathed out with a shallow exhalation, having a vague feeling of somewhere shattered being brought together.

It beggared description how it felt to have somewhere broken on the mend. Erik could only say it rivaled what one would feel when he smelled the first refreshing spring breeze after a long chilling winter.

Though Peter might be disappointed, for his caring attempt failed, unfortunately. It was three in the morning yet Erik was still wide awake and had no intention to disengage himself from the tumultuously thinking. The boy would surely feel disgruntled if he had known what was going on downstairs. At this thought Erik grinned again. He hadn’t had a good smile for an awfully long time and he really could use some.

 _‘And you could use some sleep as well.’_ Peter’s voice intruded on his thoughts. He was deeply moved by the boy’s tender solicitude for him. But on the other hand, he doubted he would do the same thing if he were put in Peter’s place. Erik couldn’t say for certain that he would love a father who was absent from his life for twenty years. He would only hate him, despise him and spit on him before turning away.

 _It’s a good thing he’s nothing like me._ Erik gave vent to a heavy sigh, tenderly stroking the leaves of the snake plant for one last time before traipsing away.

Upon settling down on the bed, staring meditatively at the ceiling, Erik put on the headphone and pushed the play button. The freely-flowing melodies streamed from the headphone into his ears and haunting his head like a lost soul ghosting across the darkest waves of the sea.

 _‘I thought that everything else would just wait while you are wasting your time on your enemies…’_ Every word was as though excerpted from a passage from his biography. Even Erik himself had to partly agree that he had wasted too much time martyring himself to revenge that he was left with only a little to share it with whom he truly cared about.

 _Not anymore._ Erik said to himself with firm resolution.

The music was still ringing in his ears as a sudden rush of drowsiness surged through him. Weary, Erik closed his eyes and slowly inclined to a trance when the Walkman was playing _‘Can you see your days blighted by darkness?’_ for the third time.

Erik couldn’t say for sure for how long he had roamed freely in the wonderland of dreams since it only felt like the mere blink of an eye. But one thing he was certain was that it must be late when a beam of glaring sunlight hit his eyes.

‘Great.’ Erik groaned, struggling to get up and rushed down to the Danger Room after roughly getting himself tidied up.

Raven shot him a deathly stare on seeing him appear in the doorway, ‘You are late.’ she said sternly.

Erik simply shrugged. He wondered if Peter, or the other kids, had already told her what had happened last night before he came here cause they seemed to have a good gossip, judging by the smirks on their faces. But the likelihood was that she was still kept in the dark for that could well explain her foul attitude. She was still pissed at him for being an asshole to Peter.

 _Momma's gonna keep you right here under her wing,_ Erik muttered inwardly. _Just the lyrics of a song._ He hastily added when he caught a glimpse of Charles’ reproachful look.

Yet Raven was still fuming and the kids were gloating at him. With a nonchalant shrug Erik frankly admitted, ‘I overslept.’

At his words Peter quirked his eyebrow while his lips twitched into the suspicion of a smile. It only remained for a fleeting moment, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Erik.

‘Very responsible indeed.’ retorted Raven, who scorned to mask her heavy sarcasm. After darting one last dark look at him she turned to the kids, clapped her hands crisply for their attention and summoned them to the center of the room. Erik walked straight to Charles while she shouted ‘Get your ass here X-men! We are doing one-on-one combat training today.’

‘She’s really good at playing the team momma role, isn’t she?’ said Erik in a confidential tone once Raven was out of earshot, ‘I know what you are thinking, Charles–’ he continued as the professor broke into a mild chuckle, ‘but they specifically used Momma in that line. It’s not like I have another choice of words.’

Charles shook his head, ‘I doubt it.’

‘It’s actually a good song, Charles. Wanna have a try?’

‘No, no.’ Charles rejected flatly, ‘Keep it to yourself, Erik. That’s not my thing.’

‘Well, wait till you binge-listen all the songs of Pink Floyd before you throw any judgment.’

Charles’ face wrinkled in a broad grin as his eyes flitted across the kids standing in line to be briefed about the instructions, ‘I wonder who else is also fanatical about Pink Floyd. The name’s on the tip of my tongue but I just can’t recall it–’

In response to his words a significant smile materialized in sync on Erik’s face.

‘Alright now–’ Raven ranted in the wake of yet another handclap. Clearing her throat, she raised her voice to drown the noises out, ‘Kurt, you are with me today. Jean, Ororo, you go in pair. And Scott–’

‘No, not Peter again.’ Scott whined.

‘Ready to be thrashed again, Scotty?’ Peter yelled back in a challenging air, smirking and putting on the goggles.

‘I’m ready to kick your ass.’ Scott snorted, his finger on the side button of the visor, readying himself for the next instruction given by Raven and preparing to punch it anytime. In the shrill yell of ‘Now!’ he swiftly jabbed his index finger on the button. A flaring optic beam was released, spurting in Peter’s direction but ended up hitting nowhere as the speedster disappeared into a silver blur in a flash.

 _Where the hell did he go?_ Scott cursed inwardly, vigilantly glancing around while attempting to steady his nerves. The noises reached a crescendo as the others were all jumping into combat following hot on the heels of Raven’s instruction. Engulfed in a cauldron of voices, it was really hard for him to keep focused.

Hence he didn’t see it coming when, all of a sudden, someone grabbed hold of his shoulder from behind and threw him to the ground. Falling flat on his back, for a while Scott just stared blankly at the high dome of the Danger Room, dazed and confused, until Peter’s smirky face materialized, reflecting in the lens of the visor. The blurry outline of Peter’s face gradually sharpened with each time he blinked.

‘I hate you.’ Scott slowly grumbled, glowering at the distinct reflection of that cocky smile when it couldn’t be anymore sharper. Peter just slightly tilted his head.

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ He blew a light-hearted whistle, ‘Need a hand?’ he suggested, squatting down at Scott’s side and holding out his hand. But, fuming at his failure, the kid knocked it off and struggled to rise to his feet all by himself.

As Scott staggered in another direction, Erik strode up to give Peter a gentle but firm pat on the shoulder. ‘Nice one.’ said him cheerfully, ‘Perfect timing and neat dodging – that’s an A+ by my standard.’

‘Oh, thanks.’ murmured Peter, a faint crimson creeping up his ears. ‘Still, no to the Brotherhood.’ He added, ‘I know you are short-handed at the moment but, no. You can’t bribe me into this even with this blandishment. I’m not easily flattered.’

‘I can see that.’ Erik shook his head with a resigned smile, ‘And one more thing, remember not to let your guard down even after your enemy is taken to the ground. Always be on alert.’

‘But that’s just training.’

‘Training is preparation for the real battles. You acquitted yourself well in the training to survive those battles, not for fun, right?’

Peter pursed his lips as he thought about this and at last gave a shrug, neither approving nor disapproving.

‘By the way, I’m not sorry for what I’ve done.’ Peter began a moment later as they saw Scott stomp away with a face like thunder after Charles breathed some comforting words to him, which didn't work well obviously. ‘The kid deserved a kick in the ass.’ said him matter-of-factly in Erik’s ears. Nonetheless he broke into a trot the next second and quickened his pace to catch up with Scott, gaining on him at the far end of the passageway. Peter threw his arm around Scott’s shoulder and pulled him into a talk in his shell-like. Erik’s eyes followed them till they disappeared round the corner.

‘Seems that Father’s Day is indeed coming early this year.’ A brisk voice woke him up from his stillness. Erik swiveled around to see Charles wheel himself to him, with a tender smile on his face.

‘How long have you known about this?’

‘Not long. I overheard it from Scott some weeks ago.’ Charles said frankly, right when Scott yelled ‘I want to play Defender’ at the other side.

‘Peter thought you heard his thoughts.’ Erik explained, meanwhile he tried not to be distracted by the noises and footsteps echoing in the passageway, when his son shouted ‘Deal’ back.

Charles laughed a crisp laugh, ‘I did. He projected them very loud, actually. But the thing is… they are too disorganized, and flashing like bullets. I can hear them but I really cannot comprehend any of them. They are like cryptic hieroglyphics to me.’

‘That’s brilliant.’ said Erik sincerely, meditatively gazing into the distance where the boys just disappeared.

A meaningful smile flitted across Charles’ face, ‘Another reason to be a proud dad.’ said him significantly. But Erik refuted his remark with a slight shake of his head.

‘I’m not talking about his powers. I’m just glad that after all he underwent throughout these years, he has grown to be a good man,’ he paused to breathe a deep sigh before plowing on, ‘a man better than his father.’

The silence served them well as a break from the tumult of thoughts until Charles courteously asked, ‘Want to fill me in? I’ve got a feeling that you are keen for a talk right now.’

‘I wonder how come you always know what I’m thinking.’ said Erik teasingly.

‘You have it written all over your face, old friend.’ Charles sighed. With a quick glance at the far end of the corridor, he wheeled himself forward while beckoned Erik to follow up, ‘Let’s do this with a stroll around the mansion, shall we?’

‘With pleasure, professor.’


End file.
